


The Games We Play

by Kahvi



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas on Starbug, and tensions are high as everyone hopes to avoid the unspeakable horror that is games night with Arnold Rimmer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Games We Play

The mood around the rickety little table in Starbug's mid-section was low. Lister glared at Cat, who glared at Kryten, who, not knowing where to turn, finally attempted to glare at himself. "I... I didn't think..."

"Shut _up_," Lister hissed, casting a nervous glance in the direction Rimmer had gone off to. "Don't say another smegging word to encourage him!"

"But I..."

"Listen, eggwhisk-groin, we _all_ know there are certain things you just do NOT say to tinsel suit, especially around the holidays, OK?" Cat looked around skittishly, his nostrils vibrating and his ears moving in subtly inhuman ways. "Last year, he spent three hours just explaining the rules, and that was for Snakes and Ladders!" He lowered his voice. "I think he's got a Monopoly board stashed away somewhere..."

"We're not having that. I'm still paying back the interest on the loan he gave me last time we played."

"Really?"

Lister snorted. "No, of course not, but he keeps sending me little brightly colored forclosure notices."

Abruptly, Cat grabbed both their shoulders, shushing them frantically. "He's _coming_; he's _coming!!_"

"Look," Lister whispered, tugging at his gloves for the small comfort it gave him, "I think we're OK. I took some precautions yesterday. _Shhhh_," he added, when the others looked at him in question, signalling for quiet with his hands.

A slightly out-of-tune nasal humming preceeded Rimmer into the room. That wasn't good. Humming was Not Good. Surveying the room, Rimmer rubbed his hands together, the smirk on his face as close to genuinely smiling as he ever got. "Well, gentlemen! I've got some good news, and some bad news. I'm assuming you'll want the bad news first?"

"Yeah," Lister said, anxiously, "why break with tradition?"

"Well, for reasons unknown, every single board game I've managed to salvage since we lost Red Dwarf has mysteriously disappeared from the stash underneath my bunk overnight."

Lister kept his face carefully blank.

"_However_," he raised a finger triumphantly, "we're fortunate enough that I happen to know a game which can be played entirely without paraphernalia."

Cat's grin, which had broadened as Rimmer spoke, now froze into a chilling rictus. "Is that right?" he pressed out, between rigid teeth.

"Indeedaroonie! Now," Rimmer sat down on the chair which had been carefully placed for him, by Kryten, in such a way that he could access it without walking through it," we've all still got our cutlery, yes?"

"Yeah..." Lister poked at his fork, hesitantly. "Why?"

"OK, now," Rimmer gestured towards Kryten, enthusiastically. "This is all very simple. _You_ pick up your fork, and hand it to me... well, obviously you can't actually hand it to me, because I wouldn't be able to pick it up, but if I were Lister, for example," he shuddered briefly at the idea, "you'd hand it to me, and say..."

"There you go, sir," Kryten said, automatically.

"No, no, _no_; you hand it to me - or, well, you pretend like you're handing it to me, and you tell me 'this is a fork.'"

Kryten blinked at the implement. "It's not _really_ a fork, is it, sir? It's a screwdriver I converted when we found there weren't enough..."

"_Yes_," Rimmer interrupted impatiently, "whatever, you metal pedant; the point is, you TELL me it's a fork."

Kryten blinked. "But it isn't."

"Rimmer..." Lister, with mounting panic, decided to give it one last shot.

Rimmer ignored him. "You hand it to me, and you tell me 'this is a fork', and then _I_ reply, 'I'm sorry, what did you say?' and then _you_ reply..."

"Listen, Rimmer..."

"Shut up, Lister, I'm trying to explain things to sub Commodore 64-brains here - where was I? Right - then _you_ reply 'this is a fork.' So then _I_ take it... well... I can see that's going to be a bit of a problem, but nothing we can't sort out, I'm sure. Anyway..."

"We don't _want_ to play any of yer silly party games!" Lister yelled. There was a sudden, chilling silence. Kryten dropped the makeshift fork with a little whimper, twitching. "It's Christmas, we've had as good a dinner as we could manage, we've tried to pull three-million year old crackers that fell apart when we touched 'em, we're _content_. We don't want to hand cutlery about and tell one another what it is! What kind of goit-forsaken game is that, anyway?"

"I don't get it," Cat said, lifting up his empty plate. "Are we eating again? 'Cause I think my food might be invisible." He sniffed at the air where any food might hope to be.

"I'll have you know," Rimmer said, icily, that we played the Cutlery Game every Christmas at my house. It was a proud Rimmer family tradition!"

"What; passing a fork around?"

There was an awkward pause. Rimmer's eyes narrowed. Then he rose, suddenly, stepped through the chair, and folded his arms. "Lister," he muttered, darkly, "can I have a word?"

Trying not to make eye-contact with the others, Lister rose, and took the few steps over. Rimmer beckoned him further away. Lister followed, sighing. "What?" He whispered, finally. "I'm not giving way here just 'cause you and I are shagging; don't think I am."

"We're not _shagging_; we're interacting to our mutual satisfaction in an Artificial Reality environment."

"Whatever - the answer is no. Ye don't get any favors just because you let me stick my..."

"All right," Rimmer said, hurriedly, "but here's the thing, Listy." He half-grinned, looking really disgustingly smug. "It's really very simple. Either you play my game now, or..." the surface of his uniform rippled slightly, for a second revealing the simulated skin beneath, "I _don't_ play _your_ game later."

_As if you don't like it,_ Lister thought, but he knew how this went. Much as he hated it, there was something addictive about being - nearly - able to touch (and taste) the hologram to his heart's content. Not that any of this was fuelled by his heart. He looked at Rimmer's triumphant, annoying face, and sighed.

 

* * *

 

"Right!" Rimmer rubbed his incorporeal hands together yet again, beaming like the headlights of a Volkswagen. "This is where the serious fun begins - we're going to send a knife the _other way!_"

Across the table, Cat's eyes were narrow slits, following Lister's every move. "You'll pay for this, bud," he grumbled. He knew where the AR-controls were. Let's see how much gerbil-cheeks liked it when the power shut off mid-co-watchamacallit.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, and you like Red Dwarf slash, check out [The Red Dwarf Slash community on Livejournal](http://community.livejournal.com/reddwarfslash/) \- home of excellent RD writers!


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